Page 14 of Unstoppable Love

He ended the call, and I was met with silence through the phone before I could argue with him.

There was no fixing what had happened between Cam and me, but maybe it was finally time to take responsibility for my own mistakes and move. The. Hell. On.

I lingered in my room for another hour. Lingering was a much nicer way to say procrastinating, so I was doing that as well, although not admitting it while I unpacked the suitcases I’d carried upstairs last night after my first glass of wine before collapsing on the couch in misery.

But after my suitcases were unpacked and my small amount of bathroom supplies and makeup and hair care products were settled into the en suite bathroom, it was time to face the rest of the house.

It was time to face Cameron and see if my recent grown-up revelations could be put into action.

I’d done this. I went to his room. Hell, I begged Cameron to take me that night. All of this, all of it over the last several years, was the result of my actions and the emotions of a young fool.

With my hand on the doorknob, I stared at the wood door in front of me and rolled back my shoulders. “It’s time to grow up.”

I stepped out of the door, peeking into the hallway first like Cameron was going to jump out from behind a closed door.

Like he had nothing better to do than scare me.

Please.

Fortunately, I made my way downstairs and found the house quiet. The hum of air conditioning and the quiet tick of a clock somewhere nearby were the only sounds outside the soft pattering of my feet.

I was tiptoeing.

Like an idiot.

Changing course from my intention of finding food in the kitchen, I headed outside. It wasn’t yet noon, and already the sun was beating down. Not a cloud in the sky, and as I took a seat in one of the lounge chairs in the shade, I grabbed my phone.

I’d had nothing planned this weekend outside of relaxing, but there was no chance of that happening now that Cameron was around. I’d need to stay busy. I scrolled on my phone for events occurring in Denver that weekend. There was a hiking group I joined occasionally, but those were more enjoyable in the spring or fall, not the height of summer. There was a wine tasting, but like Cameron so nicely pointed out, I didn’t exactly have a slamming social life, and while I admired people who could go to a social event alone, that wasn’t me.

Finally, I found exactly what I needed. A few clicks later, and I’d ordered supplies and new patterns on Amazon. It wouldn’t get me out of the house, but I could do it quietly in the privacy of my own room.

My stomach rumbled, and I pushed out of the chair.

The box of food I brought in last night held wine and snack foods, not full groceries, so my current options were limited to Goldfish crackers, Triscuits, and some fruit. Which at least gave me something else to do for the day. A trip to the grocery store.

Not the most exciting errand, but it’d at least get me out of the house.

I grabbed an apple, rifled through Cameron’s kitchen drawers to find a knife, and was slicing it when a door opened.

I turned, knife held in the air, only to find Cameron, still dressed in the athletic shorts and torturously tight gray T-shirt, heading out of his office with a plate in his hand, holding a half-eaten sandwich.

“I ordered some groceries. I need to go pick them up soon, but if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’ll grab them while I’m out.”

“I can buy my own groceries.”

It came out ruder than I intended, but it couldn’t be helped.

I spent years being a simpering schoolgirl with a crush the size of Mount Everest on this man, and then years training myself to find fault with everything he said.

Reconditioning myself again to be, at minimum, kind, would take more than a change of decision.

I cut off a chunk of apple and sighed. It was probably time to start the reconditioning process. “Thank you, but I was planning on going there anyway. I can pick up your groceries for you while I’m there.”

Look at me, being all mature and helpful.

He settled his hands on his hips. It was a crime to look that good in nothing more than gym clothes. I’d always thought that about Cameron. He could be draped in an old-fashioned potato sack, and it wouldn’t hide his strength or his muscles and chiseled beauty.

“Or we can go together.” His lips curved, and something sparked in his eyes.

---